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He sighed. “You’re right. Nor will I cross the gateway while you remain here.”

“I will pretend I’m his ally,” I assured him with more confidence than I felt. “It will be easier to escape if I’m not behind bars, if his guard is down.”

Zhangwei’s fingers deftly set the pieces on the weiqi board in preparation for a game. I was in no mood to play, but remembered he liked to play by himself on occasion, experimenting with different strategies—probably because there were also few opponents of his ability.

“You must convince Lord Dalian that you’re one of them,” he said.

“How can I?” I glanced at my reflection in the mirror. “I look just as I did.”

“Your aunt was convinced,” he reminded me. “They want to believe their scheme worked, which is in our favor. Moreover, they know little of this; you are the first Wuxin transformed from a mortal. You set the rules. In their minds, nothing could have saved you.”

“Should I change the color of my hair? My eyes?”

He tilted his head like he was considering it, flipping a black counter between his fingers. “Act like there’s nothing to hide. If they sense any drastic attempt to alter your appearance, it will raise their suspicions. It will do more harm than good.”

“I’ve had some practice pretending to be someone I’m not. But if I don’t look at all like them, it will reinforce any doubt in their minds, a constant reminder of my difference,” I told him.

He nodded then, brushing a finger across my eyes, a tingling gliding across them. As I glanced into the mirror, I started to see a thin copper ring around my irises. “A small illusion, one they can’t sense clearly with the aura of your magic. It will be easy for you to maintain, or discard this at will.”

He took my hand, holding it to his chest where I could feel the thud of his heart. “Be careful. Don’t trust anyone, especially your aunt. She’s already proven her treachery.”

“Not all Wuxin are evil,” I said slowly, thinking of Mingwen and Miss Lin.

“Perhaps,” he agreed. “But we cannot trust any of them. Being good and being brave are not the same. A compassionate coward can inflict as much damage as any villain. We also don’t know what they’ve been told about us, what set them against us. In a war, the first battle is for our people’s hearts. If they do not believe, they do not fight—and the war is already lost.”

“The Wuxin believe the immortals are the wicked ones, usurping their domain in the Golden Desert, banishing them to this place,” I told him. “They claimed to be attacked and persecuted when they refused to support Mother’s bid for the throne. They saw it as ambition and greed, while Mother believed this was necessary to strengthen our kingdom.” Part of me had always longed for her clarity, even as I dreaded the rigidity of her purpose.

After all, it had cost us dearly: my father, her husband. Zhangwei and me, poisoned by the Wuxin’s curse. All those lives lost across the realms. “I don’t think I could have done that,” I said in a low voice. “I could never pay the price she did.” Still, I loved and admired her, respected and feared her. Even now I wished I could feel her hand on my head, even as I shied from her anger and disappointment.

“Many saw it as ambition, but it was your mother’s vision for our future. The Golden Desert needed to unite, to maintain its position among the immortals. The Phoenix Kingdom was eyeing an expansion of its domain, as were the monarchs of the Northern and Southern Seas.” He paused. “They might have swallowed us whole if we remained fragmented.”

“If only the Wuxin had been left in peace.” Regret stabbed me at how events had unfolded, bringing us to this point where both sides demanded blood. “Aunt Shou’s daughter, the beloved heir, was killed during one of the attacks. The Wuxin were determined to seek vengeance. This was how Dalian ascended the throne.”

“I remember,” he said slowly. “I demanded an accounting of that incident. One of our soldiers was struggling to control his magic—he was still young, new to the army. His magic flared out of control, striking the Wuxin heir. Their soldiers attacked in retaliation, and ours struck to defend themselves . . . just as the Wuxin believed they were doing.”

“A tragic accident. Yet it changed the course of the realms,” I said heavily.

“Life is often a chain of small events with large consequences,” Zhangwei said. “We can never predict any outcome.”

“They had their cause, and so did we.” I closed my eyes. “Hatred cannot be uprooted as easily as it was sown.”

“Regardless, they are now our enemies. We must escape as soon as we can, the moment we’ve freed your friend.”

“His name is Chengyin,” I reminded him. “When I returned to the skies as a mortal, no one there bothered to know my name.”

Zhangwei nodded. “I will not forget.”

“I must go now,” I said reluctantly. “If I remain in my room, they will think I have something to hide. If they send someone here, it will be worse for us.”

His jaw clenched, his grip tightening before he released me. “It will be dangerous.”

“Only if they don’t believe me.”

“I don’t want you to go,” he said tightly. “What if something goes wrong, what if I can’t get to you in time?”

“There’s no choice; we can’t hide here forever.” I pulled on an outer coat and combed my hair, trying to hide the tremor in my fingers. “Is it safe for you to stay here?” How I wished he could, but I wouldn’t risk his life.

“I will stay until I know you’re safe—that you convinced them.”